Shedding Your Skin
by ShadowsDaughter
Summary: The final battle is about to take place and Hermione is not happy with the odds. She finds a dark ritual to make herself more powerful, but manages to bring about consequences she hadn't thought possible. Not that they feel so bad, but her logical brain tells her she may have just made sure that the dark side was going to win, despite her best efforts pre-ritual. Dark!AU!Hermione.
1. Chapter 1

**Authors Note:**

**Well hi there FF. net. It's been a million years it feels like. I've had this idea floating in my head for some time. Something about a dark Hermione makes me very happy so I decided to write this little bit, see what the response is and decide if I want to continue this story. I know, I have other works I haven't touch in a long time, but nothing has been forgotten, just put on the back burner until my muse for them decides to return. I'd appreciate your thoughts!**

**As a warning, Hermione is going to very AU! She will be transformed after this chapter, and so will Tom, so please keep that in mind! I rated this story M just to be on the safe side. **

* * *

Sometimes, Hermione wasn't sure why she was in Gryffindor. Oh, she had courage and bravery, boldness and truth, but she also had her strong pride and cunning, her penchant for justice and revenge. The darker spots that glittered in her soul only got larger over the years. But especially after the year on the run, months of always being cold and hungry, months of rash words and flared emotions. It developed her in more ways than she had thought it would at the time. She licked her lips as she glanced around the shadowed library of Grimmauld Place. She knew Harry and Ron would disapprove of the dark text she held in her hands, but hearing the mad cackle of Bellatrix in the back of her mind had her shaking off her moment of doubt. _Never_ again would she be tortured like she was. She shivered, remembering how her throat felt like flayed flesh from screaming herself hoarse, the uncomfortable wetness as she lost control of her bladder, how she had scratched herself til she bled as she was held under the _Cruciatus Curse_. Never again.

While they had collected more horcruxes, the war wasn't in the light side's favor. Voldemort had been so enraged from just missing them escape Malfoy Manor he had killed Narcissa Malfoy, had led a brutal attack on Hogsmeade, was able to sneak some of his Death Eaters into Hogwarts through the passage in Honeydukes, had basically destroyed the seventh floor of the school and had stolen any remaining children Death Eaters, or those who were children of his followers. The Order hadn't recovered since then. Harry had been attacked so viciously by Voldemort that he had to take Dreamless Sleep for a whole day, lost in the darkness of sleep to avoid the backlash from Voldemort's anger.

The book in her hands had a ritual that would help her expand her powers. It would break her magic off from her core and instead bind itself to her soul. There wasn't a sure chance she'd survive this and there was also the tricky bit about needing a partner of similar magic. It would balance out her magic but also allow them to draw on each other's magic. It was a ritual used in medieval times, when battles for land, food, women, were daily so that partners would be able to keep each other safe. Mostly Lords and Ladies, along with some knights would use this ritual. Her first thought had honestly been Harry. While she had, had a crush on Ron for a long while, it had faded after he had ditched them out in the woods. Yes, he had come back, but too little, too late. Harry was a very powerful wizard, but his hesitancy and upbringing held him back. There was a little section that detailed that if her partner was unavailable for the ritual, as kidnapping was fairly common back then, it would still work, it would still reach out to that partner and bind them, giving them a bond close to marriage, as it would also disengage their magic from their core to their soul. This is what was holding her back from completing the ritual. It was one thing to do a dark ritual to herself, but could she condemn another person to this? Would they even be on her side? Would they even be in her country?

So many questions, but time was running out. The Order was readying to make a large assault on Voldemort and his followers. They were hoping to engage Voldemort's forces hard and fast, hopefully wiping them out. Harry had been practicing, dueling and his Occlumency as much as he could. He was prepping to go against Voldemort.

Everyone had, had enough.

Hermione tugged on her wild hair, unsure if she really wanted to do this. That was also what made this spell so dark. You had to be one hundred percent sure, had to be fully willing to embrace the wildness the magic would bring to you, fully willing to become someone else for the betterment of your House, or so the text said. Glancing up to the doorway, she sighed lightly before rising to her short height of five feet, four inches. Her hair flowed behind her as she marched out the door, book tucked in the crook of her arm like a precious child. As soon as the front door clicked behind her, she was stepping out past the apparition wards, spinning on the balls of her feet to apparate away, a loud crack sounding as Sirius sat up, feeling the wards flex as someone left.

A quick run through the house revealed Hermione was the only one missing and a worried frown pulled at his face. She had been hiding in the library for a few weeks, a haunted look in her light brown eyes. He only hoped she wasn't doing anything too rash.

* * *

Hermione landed in one of the first clearings her and the boys had used to hide away and was quick, her wand flowing the air, murmurs leaving her chapped lips as she put up all the wards she knew. She wasn't completely stupid, she wouldn't dare to do this unprotected, even if she was alone. It didn't take long and then she was prepping her site. She cleared a perfect 6 foot circle of leaves and twigs and starting pulling her few ingredients she needed. A small cauldron, a silver knife, and an obsidian stone that was the size of a kiwi, placed carefully in the cauldron. She referenced the book once more, feeling tears gather in the corner of her eyes. They needed an edge over Voldemort, there was no other way to it. She only hoped whomever her magical was would forgive her, or at least not actively try to get revenge on her. From what she understood, even if there was a major distance between partners, they could still draw magic from each other. She really only needed this person's magic to help her if they were unwilling to fight against Voldemort's forces. She wouldn't force them. It would be convenient if it was someone firmly on the Light's side, but knowing her luck, she wasn't holding her breath. She grabbed the small blade and with a quick motion cut across her palm, the old Latin falling from her lips in strong intonations, her resolve hardening her tone. The obsidian stone seemed to soak up the blood that was splashing on it, any drops landing on the cauldron sliding over to be stone, seeping in like the stone was a sponge. She had to cut her hand twice more to get the right amount of blood into the stone. The book said it would glow a deep red when it had enough of her blood sacrifice. She didn't let herself focus on what she was doing, just what needed to be done next. Finally she held the stone in her hand. It was slippery and warm, almost beating like a heart in her hand and with a half second hesitation she whispered the last part of the spell, shoving the stone into her mouth.

She didn't feel the stone burst in her mouth, didn't feel the blood shoot down her throat and burn it's way to her stomach as it turned black, didn't feel her stomach instantly try to throw it back up. All she felt was a burning in her core, like a fire that was angry, whipping around her. Inside her little six foot circle, she didn't see herself get lifted into the air, arms spread like the Christian Jesus Christ, eyes blasting with pure energy, her fingertips shooting out sparkling waves of energy, didn't feel it when another being was summoned into her circle and thrown up into the air with her. Didn't see his pale white skin turn to a healthy pink then tan, didn't see the nose grow or the red glowing eyes fade to pale green, or the dark brown hair that grew.

After what felt like hours of being burned alive, she crashed to the forest floor, another person falling on top of her. They both groaned.

"Bloody hell," a man's smooth voice grumbled in her ear and her eyes snapped open. She had a very attractive, fit man laying on top of her.

"Can you get off?" she asked, not unkindly, she just needed to breathe. The man grunted and flipped to lay next to her. As the oxygen flooded her brain, she could feel body ache as if a thousand therstrals had decided she was a race track. Her ears were damp, and as she pulled her fingers away from them, she frowned at the blood on her fingertips.

"What happened?" the man besides her asked, and the guilt slammed into her again. She had done this to this man, had taken his freedom away. She was no better than Voldemort.

"Ritual," she managed to croak out as she rolled onto her stomach. She felt ready to pass out at any second and was summoning her handy tent from her purse before she could think about it. It flew out and almost hit her in the face as it unfolded in the air and landed perfectly made. She blinked at how easy it was before slowly crawling to it. "Sleep," she grunted to her now partner, the edges of her vision going dark. She managed to get into the tent and down the couple entry stairs before she lost her grip on reality on the floor.

The man she had summoned had watched her crawl with narrowed, tired eyes. What had this witch done to them and how had she summoned him from his own headquarters. A weak sneer crossed his face before he crawled after her, slowly rising to his feet. As the caster, she must have used more energy than he. He could feel his magic swirling around, it filled a good portion of the forest, and from the growing waves coming from the girl, she would be almost as powerful as him when her depleted stores filled. It made him curious. Curious enough to wandlessly, wordlessly, almost thoughtlessly float her from the floor to a bed before setting his own blood wards, noting how much stronger they were than his normal casting, which was already a strong thing. He wasn't modest, but he also knew that he had been the most powerful being on the planet, now he felt completely unbeatable. A disgustingly warm feeling in his core made him theorize he no longer had his horcurxes, that he was no longer immortal. He had pushed his body's changes to the back of his mind for now. He didn't want to focus on how much he looked like his disgusting muggle sperm donor, even if he knew that meant he was devastatingly handsome again. This young witch wasn't leaving until he had gotten the whole truth. He watched her sleep for a few minutes before going back out to grab the book he had noticed and then settled in the bed across from her to read and keep an eye on his newest prisoner.

_No one_ summoned and practiced magic on him without his direct say so.

_No one_ bothered him without his direct say so.

_No one_ ruined his chance to be immortal.

Anger started to burn into fury in his stomach as his eyes slid closed, his own physical energy quite low.

Lord Voldemort vowed he would make the little chit pay for this violation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Thank you so much to those that reviewed, followed, etc. It means so much to me! Here's the next little bit. Not too much action or plot is happening yet but I wanted to make sure you guys saw why the ritual affected them and how it did so. Again, please review and let me know your thoughts! Not sure when I'll update next but keep an eye out! Thank you so much!  
**

* * *

_"Well?! Get to cleaning!" the old woman shoved a bucket of water into her hands, the water sloshing out and ruining her last clean pair of trousers. Hermione glared up at the woman before stomping away. Well, as much as seven year old could. She grumbled under her breath as she settled on the floor by the entryway._

_"Psssst! Tom!" a girl with dirty blonde hair and pretty blue eyes was peaking around the corner at her. She couldn't have been older than five or six. _

_"What!" Hermione snapped, not realizing the voice coming out of her mouth while young, was a boys and that she just been called Tom. _

_"How long do you havta clean? I wanna play," the girl pouted. Hermione narrowed her eyes at the girl and after a moment a loud crack filed the air and the little girl was screaming in fear as the floorboards underneath her all cracked, threatening to take her down to the basement level. As the adults of the orphanage ran to assist the little girl, Hermione turned her back on the girl, a smirk curling her lips._

* * *

_"Stop! Please!" Hermione gasped out, arching away from the cane in the old woman's hands. Another loud crack had the cane smacking her back, surely leaving a welt if not bleeding. _

_"Devil child!" the old woman hissed at the child crying on the floor. "I **know **it was you who stole my candies! You always make things disappear!" Another hit from the cane had Hermione screaming out._

_"I'm sorry!" she screamed out even though she hadn't stolen the candies. Larry, one of the older boys, had stolen them but no one would believe her. _

_"That's right, Tom, admit your sins!" the old woman brought the cane down again, this time definitely drawing blood as it spattered onto the floor. Hermione shook as her eyes rolled back in her head. At only nine she couldn't handle the torture and lost herself to the darkness that had always been a friend and comfort to her._

* * *

_At ten years old, Hermione was very mature and darkened, no longer trusting anyone about anything. She had learned the hard way since being a toddler. She had learned how being different was seen as evil and wrong, even if in a child. She had learned that she was already superior to all those that resided in the orphanage. She had heard the whispered conversations on having a doctor come examine her to see if she could be put away somewhere she could be forgotten. Thankfully Mrs. Cole thought her to be too young for such a thing and kept convincing the others to wait for her to reach an older age. She figured she had until she was twelve or thirteen until she'd have to go off on her own. _

_"Tom? Can you help in the kitchen?" the old woman was summoning her again. With a sneer that twisted her angelic features, she went to the kitchen. Twenty minutes later had her hands beat red and aching from the too hot water to wash the dishes. If she had been with a family who wanted her, they wouldn't have let her wash dishes in scalding, almost boiling water. Or not even wash them at all. _

_She was sitting on her bed, staring at her hands, refusing to let any tears fall from the pain. She focused hard as she could, feeling that weird swirling energy inside her surge up and as she watched, the skin of her hands slowly turned back to it's too pale color and the pain faded. She looked up with a satisfied, evil smirk and knew she would be ready for when they sent for the doctor to take her away. She wouldn't go willingly. She wouldn't go at all. _

* * *

_Professor Dumbledore had just left the orphanage but Hermione paid no mind to the whispers of her having a visitor or how excited Mrs. Cole was. The monster child would be leaving soon! Well, not permanently but that was no matter. As long as they didn't have to deal with her anymore than they had to. Hermione was standing at the wardrobe that had been on fire only minutes ago but bore no markings of the flames. She sneered, crossing her arms, focusing as hard as she could to also make it burst into flames but alas, nothing happened. She felt what she now knew to be her magic trying, but it seemed to be too big of a task just yet for her. No matter. She had time._

_A small part inside of her was excited to be going to a school for people with magic. That small part hoped to find some peace and belonging at this school, but the larger part of her scolded herself and focused on how much more powerful she would be after her schooling was complete. Then **no one **would be able to hit her, boss her around, ridicule her, nothing. She would rule the world! _

* * *

_"Riddle, Tom!" _

_Hermione strode up to the stool where Professor Dumbledore stood, holding a ratty hat high in the air until she was settled on her seat. The hat had barely brushed the top of her hair before it screamed out "SLYTHERIN!". There was some polite applause but it was pretty quiet. She walked slowly, calmly, to the Slytherin table, pale green eyes taking in those that would be her housemates. She found many glaring at her in confusion and suspicion. She sat down and immediately had a boy who was about sixteen asking her what lineage she came from. _

_Her answer of being orphaned and living with the muggles had almost everyone turning their back on her. She narrowed her eyes, hurt even though she told herself being alone was better. Was she to fit in no where?_

* * *

_Hermione grinned maniacally as she strode down the corridors of the dungeons. Finally, **finally **she would put them all in her place. After years of believing herself to be above all others, of being better, here was her proof! The Heir of Slytherin strode into the common room, a small three foot snake curled from the Forbidden Forest around her neck. The door slammed shut behind her twelve year old body, causing all those in the Common Room to turn and look at her in surprise. The first few weeks of the term had shown the other students how studious and quiet she was, but also how quick she was with her wand and how her spells seemed to pack a punch a seventh year's did. They had backed off physically, no longer attacking her head on, though she sometimes had to deflect a spell here or there when someone was having a bad day and decided to take it out on her. _

_"Got something to say, Riddle?" someone called from the back of the Common Room. She tilted her chin up and allowed the snake to slither down her arm until its head rested in her palm. _

_"Go scare them a bit, my__ dear,"__ Hermione said in a loud voice, but this time it was in what she learned to be Parseltongue. There were many gasps, some of the younger Purebloods standing in alarm. There were very, **very **few families that had the ability to speak the Snake Language. _

_"Now, you're going to leave me alone, do you hear me?" She stated as her newest friend hissed and lunged at a few students._

_There were murmurs of agreement and with a satisfied smirk, she called the snake back to her and went to up the stairs so she could relax in bed. It had been a good day._

* * *

Memory after memory swarmed Hermione's mind as she slept. Across the tent, Lord Voldemort was experiencing the same she was, but only her memories. They were witnessing the memories that shaped who they were, that had defined them as being powerful, headstrong people meant to be leaders.

Hermione groaned as she sat up slowly, a hand going to her head as she did so. Merlin, it felt like she had drank the night away and this was her punishment but as she managed to get her eyes open and saw the tent, it came back to her, what she did. The ritual! A smile curled her lips up as she glanced over at the man passed out in the opposite bed. Tom Riddle was sleeping only ten feet away. She stumbled to her feet, walking slowly over to him until she knelt on the floor next to his bed, watching him breathe. Tears welled in her eyes for a moment at how much he had suffered. Why hadn't anyone helped him? She couldn't understand why Dumbledore would have left Tom, or any child, in that situation. But then she sneered a bit, the old man probably had some grand plan for them all, but look where that got them?

A sudden intake of breath from Tom had her focusing back on him to find that he was waking, a frown marring his handsome features.

"Deep breaths," she encouraged. She felt floored at how she was comforting the Dark Lord. Her partner. Her magic mate. She felt her magic reach out to his and they both sighed as they made eye contact, feeling better and better by the second.

"This is going to be interesting," Tom commented and suddenly she was laughing as hard as Bellatrix, a slight mad sheen to her tone. Tom was watching with slightly wide eyes, but his lips curled in a smirk. This dangerous, powerful, slightly deranged creature was his! His to use, to own, his to take over the world with. He huffed a chuckle as well, feeling fondness swell in his chest as she grinned too wide at him. Part of him raged at being forced back to being human, at forced to care about someone other than himself or Nagini, but the spell was permanent and after all those memories... he tilted his head as Hermione suddenly plopped beside him on the bed, leaning against him, suddenly both quiet and cold.

"What do we do, Tom?" Hermione whispered. He flinched at the name, but he could hear the same fondness he felt for her in her tone for him. Oh Morgana, this little witch had just flipped the war on it's head.

"I don't know," Tom sighed and stood, stretching, feeling out his new body. "But I do need to get back to my base before some idiot decides to make decisions in my absence." Tom rolled his eyes and Hermione giggled despite the tenseness she felt growing in her body. She didn't know how she felt she could have fought against her partner before the ritual because now, looking up at the man who killed her best friends parents and many more, all she could do was sigh and come to his side.

"Take me with you?"

Tom paused as he looked deep into her eyes.

"We have much to discuss, little witch," Tom replied and held out a hand to his magic mate. With her at his side, he could take the world by storm, and it would be easier if she could persuade her fellow light members to back the hell off. Well, he smirked as she placed her hand in his, a look in her eyes, a trust, that made him feel uncomfortable in his chest, she wasn't so light anymore, now was she?


End file.
